


Valentine's Day

by DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Not really angst but whatever, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5871532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper/pseuds/DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England and France sleep with each other at America's Christmas party. When New Year's rolls around America invites everyone (that he invited last time) to the party. He had already learned that they slept with each other and was pretty upset ((understatement)) over it. But when England stays over for the night... Well... you'll see.</p><p>I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters. All credit goes to the creators of this wonderful anime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know what to title this story, sorry.

England’s POV:

It was Christmas and-as per usual-America threw a party.

He invited Japan-making him attend against his will, Germany, Italy, Romano, France, Spain (declined saying he was busy and since Spain still scares America, he let him), Russia (more or less out of common courtesy), China, Canada and I.

Canada came up to me a few days before asking how he could differentiate himself from America and I obviously made him a suit-like the ones I wear-with the Canadian flag on the shoulders and a hat to match with a large, red maple in front.

He thanked me, me smiling and saying “You’re welcome,” in response.

It was currently the morning right before the party so I had decided to come to America early to just… be a tourist, watching the many famous things here.

When night was clear over the horizon, I had walked-dressed formally in one of my best suits (I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?)-knocking loudly on the door.

It opens, America’s butler leading me to America who was in the living room watching TV.

“Oh!” He said, sitting up quickly as the pillow in his grasp dropped onto his lap. “Is it time already?”

“No, you still have an hour left but I was sure you wouldn’t have prepared so I came early.” I said, sitting beside him.

Alfred rolls his eyes, “I already prepared, it’s going to be held upstairs, I don’t want the parts of the house where I’m usually at to be ruined. Also out back in the garden.”

“It’s freezing outside!” I say, thinking of the amount of coats I had to wear to be out for only a few moments.

“Yeah, it’ll only be for a few moments.”

I nod, leaning back.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for an hour.” I lace my fingers behind my head.

America smiles, going back to cuddling his pillow and watching the show.

**_*-*-*-*-*-*Time Skip To A Few Minutes Before The Party*-*-*-*-*-*_ **

I wait patiently as America gets dressed, perking up slightly when the door to his room opens and I look up.

My jaw drops.

Alfred is wearing tight, red pants, a-also tight fitting-Santa Claus’s coat and a Santa’s hat.

“Al-Alfred, what-what are you w-wearing?” I ask, shocked being the understatement here.

“A Santa Claus’s outfit-I just didn’t like how loose they are, like gosh, I’m not _that_ fat, how do they expect me to wear it?”

I shake my head, snapping my jaw shut as I feel the red burning my cheeks.

I stand up suddenly, “O-okay, let’s uh, go wait for them, I-I guess.”

I hear America’s footsteps-black boots, he was wearing-right behind me, catching up quickly since his legs and strides were longer than mine.

Just as we reach the bottom there’s  a knock on the door and America’s butler opens it.

“Hey France!” America greets, France pulling him into a hug-giving me a smug look over Alfred’s shoulder.

“Hey America, been a while since I last saw you, how are you?”

They slip into a conversation and I make my way around them to the other people standing behind them.

“England!” Italy smiles, running towards me and pretty much rugby tackling me in a hug.

“Ah-Italy, hello.”

Italy smiles up at me. stepping back slightly.

“England.” Germany’s low voice greets.

“Germany,” I nod, a small smile gracing my lips, his own twitching upwards slightly.

“Hey guys!” America says, suddenly at my side, glancing at me before engulfing Italy with his arms.

More and more people trickle in and sooner than I know it we’re all upstairs in a wide room, music blasting through hidden speakers, drinks and snacks on a long table on the far left wall.

I’m leaning against the wall, one foot raised against the wall, my head tilted back slightly with a drink in my hand.

I’m not really paying attention to my surrounding, my thoughts stuck in a dark swirl of thoughts. I’m obviously a little bit more than surprised when I suddenly hear my name said in a low voice by my ear.

I jump, the alcohol in my cup sloshing, turning sharply to the right where my voice was called.

I sigh, “France, you scared the shit out of me.”

France raises and eyebrow, his face still really close to mine.

“Wow, America really is a bad influence on you then if you’re starting to say bad words.”

I roll my eyes, taking another sip of my drink. “I say bad words,” I mutter.

“Not like America does though.”

I roll my eyes.

“Come on, you look like a dejected puppy over here by yourself.”

“Hey! I’m not a dejected-”

Francis grabs my hand, dragging me through the group of people over the alcohol, filling a cup up and shoving it in my face.

“Drink. All of it.”

I set my cup down, rolling my eyes and downing the entirety of the other cup.

I already feel the alcohol start to mess with my brain because the world suddenly lurches right, France sets his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I drink the rest of my first cup before asking for more.

France smirks, getting two more, handing me another cup.

I don’t remember much then, I think Prussia or someone came up to us at some point.

But Prussia wasn’t invited-was he? I dunno, I think all these drinks are starting to get to me.

I _do_ remember stumbling after Francis as he walked out of the room, glancing back at me periodically.

Then it’s a bit fuzzy but I think he was leading me to one of the spare, guest rooms at the far side of America’s house.

I remember the deafening silence as I was suddenly pushed back against the wall, hands gripping my coat and lips pressed harshly against the skin of my neck.

I moan-my neck being a very sensitive part of me-grabbing handfuls of… _France’s_ hair, arching my back slightly.

I don’t think I need to say what happens next because it’s _pretty_ obvious.

Needless to say, I wake up the next morning feeling sick and not even thinking before bolting up and running to the door on the opposite side of the room leading to the bathroom.

I spill all the contents of my stomach, the vile burning at the back of my throat.

Once I stop-finally-I fall flat onto the floor, having a massive headache and my stomach still hurts and the world is spinning like a top.

Arms are suddenly carrying me back to the bed, setting me down and handing me a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

I don’t even bother counting the amount of pills I take before drinking all of the water, sighing and falling back.

“It’s been how many years since you first had a drink and you _still_ can’t handle it?” France says above me as he sets the glass and bottle aside.

“Shut up, I hate you.” I say, wrapping my arms around my bare chest and closing my eyes.

France chuckles, the bed creaking as he slides under the duvet and lays beside me, wrapping his arm loosely around my waist.

I don’t react to his actions, just snuggling further into the pillow before falling asleep-my dreams bombarded by last night’s events in this very room.

“England! France! Hello? Anyone home?” I hear a familiar voice speaking loudly and pulling me out of my sleep.

France sits up beside me as I open my eyes and feel the dread like an anchor falling into the pit of my stomach.

Alfred.

France yawns, stretching his arms above his head.

“Good morning, America.” France says, smiling.

Alfred returns it, his smile weak and worry-filled.

“H-hey guys, uh, I just, uh, came to wake you up. Un-unless you’d like to stay here all day.” Alfred jokes feebly, scratching the back of his neck, his shirt lifting up a bit and I hide my face under the duvet again.

France chuckles, patting my shoulder which I immediately slap his hand away.

France gets out of the bed and I don’t show my face as he speaks to America and a calm, normal voice-getting dressed as he does so.

“Okay, well, I have to go back, I’ll see you on New Years then?” Francis asks, walking towards the door.

“Uh, yeah,” Alfred says.

“Good, see you both then! Bye!” France’s voice and footsteps fade out of the room and down the hall and I can tell America is now looking at me, even if he can’t really see me.

“Arthur, I-”

I slowly sit up, keeping my eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them and feeling my heart shatter at the look he’s giving me.

“I’m so-”

Alfred’s face goes blank. “There’s no need to apologize England, just… I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

With that final statement Alfred turns and walks out, shutting the door lightly behind him.

I can’t hold back the sobs that suddenly erupt from me as I hide my face in the pillow.

 _I’m  sorry,_ I think as I do so.

**_*-*-*-*-*-*Time Skip*-*-*-*-*-*_ **

I had already taken a shower, got dressed again and paced around the room for a few minutes before throwing the door open and briskly walking down the stairs to the lounge where Alfred was staring blankly at the TV screen which played some horror movie.

That’s how I was a hundred percent sure I had fucked up because America can’t do horror movies with other people in broad daylight-much less alone.

“H-hey, Alfred.”

Alfred snaps to attention at the sound of his name, his eyes narrowing for a moment when his gaze lands on me before tilting his head to the side and looking at me with false curiousness.

“I, uh, I b-better go. I mean, unless you want me to stay.”

Alfred nods, “It’s fine, you can go.” He says after a moment.

I nod once, stiffly turning towards the door, tugging on my cuffs of my sleeves as I walk out into the bright sunlight and chilly air.

I sigh, my breath visible in the cold air, _I really fucked up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all my friend's fault-she got me into this fandom and now that there aren't any more episodes made I'm stuck with writing fanfiction. Blame or thank @Anna_Rose17


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred’s POV:

Of course-what did I expect from England? For me to have been in France’s place?

I sigh, listening as the door shuts behind England.

I run a hand roughly through my hair, _god, what am I going to do?_

That’s all that’s on my mind for the next week until New Years.

I invite the same people, waiting in the living room again-thinking of Christmas for the millionth time this day alone.

I was _sure_ that my outfit would’ve at least done _something_ to help my case but no-he wasn’t even fazed.

I was looking for him during the party but so. _Many._ People. Had wanted to talk to me that by the time I was free Arthur was nowhere in sight.

No one noticed the slight drag of my mood, the false smiles and laughs.

I knew it, I already knew what was happening because not only was England missing but so was France.

They were the only two missing and you know the only thing on France’s mind is sex.

The first people this time are Canada and England, his gaze never leaving the floor.

“Where are we going to be this time?” Canada asks.

“Huh? Oh, in the living room.” I say, gesturing for the butler to start placing plates of food on the large coffee table in the center of the room in front of the biggest couch.

I turn to England-feeling a bit sick-watching a he continues to give the floor his undivided attention.

“Arth-”

“Hey! America!” Canada’s soft voice calls me, his head poking out of the entryway to the living room. “England! You guys coming.”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling widely-ignoring how fake it feels-and grabbing England’s arm, dragging him with me to Canada.

England protests, trying to pull his arm out of my grasp but I merely pull him closer and wrap my arm around his shoulders, smiling at his sudden, sharp intake of breath.

England stays stiff beside me as Canada tells me about something he saw on his way here but he doesn’t move away so I take that as a accomplishment.

As Christmas nears, time slips by and everyone is crowded around us in the living room.

Germany, Italy, Japan, and China are standing by the doorway. Russia, Spain (who had decided to come) and Romano were on the couch on the left, talking. Lithuania-who Russia brought with him-was beside me as he spoke to me, his eyes as wide as his smile. Canada and France were on the couch to the right talking about something-I’m not even sure.

I kept noticing the smirks France kept giving England and England pressing closer to me each time.

I tried not to snap at France-hadn’t he already done enough-as I listened to Lithuania who was filling me in on what had gone on in his life after he left.

There’s another knock on the door and I look up, confused-I didn’t invite anyone else, right?

“Mr. America,” I hear  behind me and see my butler leading a dark haired man and a blond girl towards me.

I stand up, letting England go, and going to greet the two.

“Oh, Austria, hello.” I say, holding out my hand.

Austria nods.

“I-I didn’t expect you to come.” I say, smiling sheepishly.

“Well, originally,” he says in his rich tone, “I wasn’t but Miss Hungary really wanted to come.”

“Hey! That wasn’t the only reason! You wanted to come too, don’t you deny it!” Miss Hungary says, slapping Austria’s arm.

Austria’s face goes a slight bit red as he turns to her, about to argue when I hold up my hands.

“Woah, woah, woah-it’s fine, really. Anyone’s welcome, honestly. Please, I want you guys to enjoy your time here.”

Austria looks back up, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, nodding.

“Mr. Austria!” I hear Italy’s voice yell from a few feet away as Italy runs and attacks Austria in a hug.

Austria returns it-not as enthusiastic.

“Mr. America?” Miss Hungary says, looking concerned.

“Huh?” I ask, snapping to attention.

“You look distant, were we interrupting something? If you want-you can go back with your friends.”

I sigh, smiling at her and she returns it, nodding to England and Lithuania.

“Okay, thank you.” I say, stepping back.

Miss Hungary just nods, watching as I make my way back to Lithuania and England on the couch.

I was worried about England-I didn’t want to leave him with France so close by.

I wrap my arm around him again and England actually leans into the touch, hiding his face in my jacket and wrapping his arm around my waist.

I chuckle slightly, glancing down at him-the small bit of his face that I could see was scarlet-before answering Lithuania’s question.

Drinks were passed around but it wasn’t as bad as Christmas-England, Germany and France being the ones to drink the most.

Everyone else was somewhere between sober and piss-drunk.

I was mostly sober, although, most of my filter had gone from me as I drank more and more alcohol-nothing _too_ bad.

We all watched the ball drop-Japan asking me what the point of this was and I explained it, giving him a wide smile as he muttered something about me being weird-and people slowly started leaving.

Everyone felt the need to say goodbye to me specifically so I’d have to get up and bid them all good bye and telling them to be safe.

Lithuania was close to tears and I asked if he wanted a hug which he thankfully took.

As I hugged Lithuania tightly I noticed England down a whole cup.

“Bye!" I say, waving as Russia and Lithuania walked away.

I turn back to the living room-the only people left were a semi-drunk Italy who was trying to coax a completely drunk Germany to go back home, France, Romano, Spain and England.

I bid Germany and Italy goodbye, Italy attacking me once more in a hug before he waves, yelling “Goodbye America,” and dragging Germany with him.

Spain stumbles out a few minutes before France who has his arms linked with Romano.

I glare at him, trying to tell him not to do what is most likely going to happen if Spain leaves Romano alone with that bastard.

I close the door, telling my butler he can go rest now and wishing him a happy new year.

He smiles, wishing me one as well, bowing slightly before walking away.

“Murica!” I hear the slur of England’s speech and can tell he’s going to be a pain for the rest of the night for as long as I have him.

“That’s not how you say my name,” I roll my eyes, lifting England’s feet so I can sit on the couch and placing them on my lap.

England turns-he was originally lying face-down on the couch-and sits up, a bubbly giggle escaping his lips.

“Murica, Murica, Murica,” he chants, tugging on my sleeve.

I sigh, trying to hold back my smile-and failing-as I look down at him.

He hiccups, “Murica, what are we going to do know?”

I knit my eyebrows. “Aren’t you going home?”

“I can’t go home like this!” He exclaims. “You’d have to take me there yourself if you want me home anytime soon.” He says in an odd tone.

I chuckle, standing up.

“Okay then, I think it’s time for both of us to go to bed.” I say holding out my hand.

England flops back onto the couch.

“I don’t want to get up,” he whines.

I roll my eyes, sliding my arms under his knees and lower back, lifting him up with ease.

“Bloody hell America!” England curses, clinging to me. “What did you do that for?”

“You weren’t going to get up on your own,” I shrug.

England stares at me like I’m crazy.

I chuckle, walking to one of the guest rooms-the one across from my room actually-and open the door.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” England shakes his head frantically.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried.

“I’m not sleeping here!”

“Why not?” I exclaim, confused as to why he’d not want to sleep here-there’s nothing wrong with it.

“It looks exactly like the last one,” he hides his face in my neck and I can’t help but flinch as I feel his breath against my neck.

“W-well, where do you want to sleep?”

“Put me down.” He says and I slowly oblige, making sure he’s completely balanced before stepping back. He walks around me, I follow him and shut the door behind me.

It isn’t until he opens the door to my room that I say anything.

“Hey! That’s my room!” I say, jogging to reach him.

England is shedding his suit, unbuttoning his coat as he takes off his shoes.

“England! This is my room! Where do you expect me to sleep?”

England nods to the bed, tugging his shirt over his head, revealing a white tank top.

“What-” I choke out, the complaint cut short as England slides off his pants, he was wearing boxers with the British flag on them, and slides under the blanket, smirking up at me.

“You aren’t going to give up anytime soon, are you?” I ask defeatedly.

England shakes his head.

I sigh, rolling my eyes and going to shut the door. “Fine,” I say, pushing all of his stuff into a pile beside the bed with my foot.

I look up at England and see him sitting up, his eyes locked on me.

I look down, hoping to hide my blush as I start to undress-stripping down to my boxers only.

I turn off the lights, sliding under the blankets beside England who was still looking up at me.

I glance around, looking at all the awards, posters and other things I have on the walls. I see the American flag taking most of the opposite wall and the same design on my bedding.

“Alfred?” England’s voice sounds curious and that’s how I know he’s still a drunk-even if only a little.

“Yeah?” I ask, looking down at him.

“Are you still mad at me?”

I sigh, “I never said I was mad.”

England stares at me like, _you really think you can lie to me?_

“No, England, I’m not mad-not anymore.”

England says nothing, and at first I think he’s going to drop the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a small voice.

I shift so I’m laying on my side and lightly place my hand on his chin-forcing him to look up at me. “Arthur. Stop apologizing.”

England looks up at me with wide eyes.

“It’s okay England,” I mutter, running my my knuckles lightly over his jaw and cheek.

I feel England’s hands slowly slide up my chest around he wraps his arms around my neck.

I smile lightly, pulling him closer by his hips.

He gasps as I press my lips against his but he’s quick to respond, slowly moving his lips in time with mine. I ignore the taste of alcohol as I continue to kiss him, it’s not difficult with the way he’s kissing back.

I don’t know how but suddenly England is straddling me, grinding his hips against mine slowly and I moan, tugging on his hair lightly.

England’s hands travel up and down my chest, quiet moans escaping his lips.

England pulls back suddenly, his eyes wide and I worry I did something wrong.

“I-” he shakes his head and I immediately know what’s wrong-he isn’t ready to go any further.

I nod, a small sigh escaping his lips-glad I understood.

He presses his forehead against mine, both of our breaths ragged, and he stares into my eyes.

We stay like that for a few moments more before England takes a deep breath and slowly gets off me curling up by my side.

I wrap my arm around him, England relaxing as I do so.

“Good night Alfred.”

“Night Arthur,” I say, smiling down at him.

England exhales, smiling back.

He falls asleep before I do.

I continue to stare at the American flag across the room until England’s slow, steady breathing lulls me to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur’s POV:

Every two weeks during the weekends I’d come to visit America-more or less because he asked but also because I really wanted to-we never went past intense making out.

I was starting to have horrible thoughts that America was getting impatient or annoyed and every time I went to see him I had to shove those thoughts out of my head.

I had been so busy with things going on at home and trying to keep up with visiting America that I lost track of the time.

It was Saturday today, I’m not sure _which_ Saturday-but Saturday.

When I came to America’s house-the familiar dark thoughts swirling through my head-America yelled my name and when I ran to him I saw him clutching a pillow as a dank, dark hallway was on the TV screen.

Scary movie, of course.

I sit beside him, smiling when he pretty much hides in my side-his hands covering his face as he peeked through his spread fingers.

Once the movie ends America is hugging me tightly saying how scary the movie was and how glad he was that I was here.

I run my hand through his hair, Alfred already beginning to calm down under the familiar touch.

He looks up at me, smiling.

“Thank you, for coming.”

I chuckle, “You think I’d miss an opportunity to see you?” I ask, smirking at the blush that covers his features.

We spend the rest of the day talking, sharing light kisses, watching movies, eating dinner and before you know it I’m walking back to America’s room after brushing my teeth.

America is snoring lightly when I enter the room and I smile.

He looks so peaceful, his lips parted slightly and his face is slightly flushed.

A sudden, racy image pops up in my mind.

I gasp, stepping back and shaking my head as I squeeze my eyes shut.

 _What the hell? Don’t think like that!_ I scold myself, taking a deep breath.

I wait until the image finally leaves my mind before turning off the lights and sliding under the duvet.

America turns and drapes his arm over my waist, tangling his legs in the duvet.

I chuckle, staying awake for about an hour more, staring at America’s sleeping figure-ignoring the dirty images that come to mind as I do so-before falling asleep.

 

The next morning we both eat breakfast, America leaning over periodically and placing his hand under my chin, tapping the sound of my mouth-his way to tell me to open my mouth, however that may sound-and feeding me something.

Once we’re done eating and just about to go to the lounge, America asks me for a favor.

“England!” He calls and turn back around, following the sound of his voice- _I thought he was behind me_ , I think.

“Yeah?” I ask, leaning against the entrance to the dining room where we had just eaten.

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” He asks, walking up to me and pulling me towards him with his hands on my hips.

“What is it?” I ask, confused.

America leans forward, a small smile gracing his lips and my breath hitches in my throat.

He chuckles before leaning back.

“I need you to go to the little bakery over by the restaurant I took you to the other day-” I smile at the memory, “And give the guy this receipt, wait.”

America pulls out a small slip of paper from his pocket.

“Tell him it’s Alfred Jones’s and don’t look inside the box, okay? It’s a surprise.”

“If it was a surprise then why are you making me get it?”

“Because I don’t want to leave the house, now go.” He ushers me to the door.

I roll my eyes, reaching for my shoes and putting them on.

When I look back up America’s face is really red.

“What’s-”

“N-nothing, just, go, and hurry!” He opens the door and pushes me out lightly, throwing my jacket after me.

I barely catch it when the door closes.

“What’s gotten into him?” I ask, only slightly serious.

I pull on my jacket, slipping the receipt into my pocket and stuffing my hands into both of my pockets.

I walk down the street, trying to remember exactly where it was that we went to eat the other time I was here.

I finally find it, sighing in relief, and see the unmistakable pink sign of the bakery.

I swiftly make my way to it-already wanting to get out of the cold air, even if I’m going to have to come back out again.

 

Alfred’s POV:

I mentally check off all the things I’ve done and need to do.

First-tell the butler that he can take a vacation this week.

He looks at me oddly, “Are you sure you want me gone _all week?_ ”

“Hey! I am a grown man, I can take care of myself!”

He laughs, “No, I mean, I don’t have to be gone all week. I can just stay gone all night if you want.”

“How did you-”

“When you’re thinking really hard you start to talk to yourself.” He replies, shrugging.

I feel my face heat up and I nod.

“Uh, yeah, sure just tonight th-then.”

He smiles, nodding.

“Okay, see you tomorrow at 12 o’clock then.”

I nod, watching as he recedes to his room.

I continue to set up for the night, listening as the butler’s footsteps make their way out the door which he closes lightly behind him.

Now that there’s no one in the house I start to speak even louder to myself.

Once I have everything done I turn off the lights and start to light the candles.

 

Arthur’s POV:

I thank the man-I think his name was Joseph or something like that-and make my way back to America’s house with the cream colored box, trying to quicken my pace.

When I do make it back I open the door and remove my shoes and jacket, placing my shoes to the side and my jacket on the coat hanger.

“Alfred!” I call out into the dark building.

I look up, shocked to see candles lighting up a small path that leads to the dining table.

I follow it, picking up a card beside the candle on the table.

**Set the box down on the table and follow the candles up the stairs.**

It’s written in Alfred’s familiar handwriting-I notice as I set the box on the table.

My confusion is clear on my face as I walk up the stairs, following the lit path the candles leave.

The last light stands beside the door to America’s room.

On the door a slip of paper is taped to it.

**Ready?**

I know what that means, it clicks suddenly-all of this, the candles, the darkness of the house.

_“Happy Valentines Day!” Joseph calls as I leave._

_I wave back, not really paying attention to what he said as I walk out of the warm, sweet smelling shop into the cold air._

_It’s Valentine’s Day,_ I think.

I glance back at the note, my face flushing slightly.

I reach out and push open the door, making sure I don’t knock over the candle as I walk into the room and shut it behind me.

My jaw drops because lying on the bed, wearing a black and white maid’s outfit, was America.

He had his right arm covering his eyes and I could hear the music coming from his earphones.

“That idiot,” I mutter under my breath, glancing at all the candles around the room and thinking how massive of a fire hazard that it.

I start to loosen my tie, slipping it off and unbuttoning my shirt.

I throw it somewhere to the left, leaning down and taking off my socks before walking over and standing beside America.

I look him up and down and god, just looking at him like this is making my pants uncomfortably tight.

I slowly reach out and gently slide my hand up his arm.

“Bloody hell-” America gasps, his eyes opening suddenly.

I tilt my head curiously and America exhales, pulling out his earphones and pausing the music.

“‘Bloody hell’? Really?”

“Shut up, it’s your fault.” He growled, sitting up.

I laugh, a bit surprised when America pulls me down, his lips pressed fiercely against mine.

We end up with America on his back, his legs wrapped around my waist and his arms around my neck.

I tug impatiently on his the skirt of his dress.

America smiles, pushing me back and sits up.

I’m about to ask what’s wrong when he reaches behind him and fumbles with the buttons I didn’t know were there.

I reach around and help him, America looking up at me with slightly widened eyes.

I brush my lips over his jaw and neck, America groaning slightly under me.

I tug the dress off his shoulders and once it’s off the only thing left are his leggings and his boxers-why he didn't take them off as he put on the dress, I don’t know but he was sporting the American flag with them.

I lean back over him my hands sliding up and down his legs as I continue to kiss him.

Oh god, the feeling of his damn leggings, I moan, hiding my face in his neck.

America chuckles, reaching down and slowly taking off the leggings.

I pout and he laughs, pressing another kiss on my lips-a light one that only lasts seconds.

He also goes and slowly unbuttons my pants, I lean back to let him and watch as he slowly takes them off.

He’s starting look nervous-biting his lip as his eyebrows furrow slightly-so I tilt his head up to have him look me in the eyes.

He keeps his gaze locked on mine and I silently ask him if _he’s_ ready.

He glances away for only a moment before looking back, nodding slightly.

I smile, running my thumb over the skin of his jaw, just admiring-now that I’m allowed to do it without being questioned-how sexy he really looks. Especially now with that maid’s hat on his head and his face flushed.

I press a soft kiss on his mouth, slowly sliding my hands down his torso until I reach the waistband of his boxers.

America gasps slightly but doesn’t say anything to stop me so I carefully slide his boxers off, pulling back to look at him and see his face is completely red and he tries to hide his face in my neck.

I chuckle, running my thumb up his length, grinning as he gasps, digging his nails almost painfully into my biceps.

I slowly go back and forth-only using one finger and America growls in my ear-obviously mad that I’m teasing but how many times am I going to have this opportunity.

 _That was rhetorical!_ I think, my face going a slight shade of red as I slowly wrap my hand around his member, America moaning loudly in my ear.

I bite my lip, slowly moving my hand in the up and down motions, America slowly melting to a moaning mess below me.

“E-Eng-gland…” He says after a few moments.

I immediately stop, looking up-alarmed.

“I-it… I-” he makes an impatient noise, making me even more confused.

He pushes me back so he’s above me and my back is against the bed.

He leans down and starts to press light kisses on my neck and chest, occasionally sukcing or biting at the skin.

I moan loudly-louder than the ones America was making-gripping his hair tightly.

I don’t entirely notice when he removes my boxers but I do when he’s slowly leaving a trail of marks down my stomach.

When he runs his tongue down my length and slowly taking me whole is when I gasp, my hand wildly going out and accidentally punching America’s nightstand.

“Shit,” I hiss, receiving a light slap from America, I snicker at that.

America’s head slowly bobs up and down and I have to bite my lip to keep multiple swear words from spilling from between my teeth.

Then he stops and I can’t help but groan.

America rolls his eyes, leaning over me and grabbing something from the drawer.

_Oh no, not this. I hate this part! Why can’t I be drunk like last time? Actually-last time, I was in America’s position._

I turn my head in hopes of America not seeing the red shade my face had taken to being.

America leans forward, his mouth beside my ear.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks in a low-husky voice.

I hold back my moan from just hearing his voice-oh god, what is happening with me?

“Y-y-yes.” I say, cringing at the fact that I stuttered.

I try not to pay attention as America gets ready, only waiting for it to happen.

“This… might hurt.” America says worriedly, chewing his lip.

I give a small groan.

One of his fingers are slowly stretching me out and I can’t help but bite into his shoulder.

“Ow,” he mutters-more out of habit than necessity.

I want to say some sarcastic remark about the amount of pain _I’m_ in but he adds another finger.

By the time America asks if I’m ready I really just want to say no and hide under the duvet for the rest of time but I don’t, instead nodding curtly, squeezing my eyes shut.

He slowly enters me and I have to bite on my knuckle to keep from yelling.

America gives a choked moan, “D-damn England, Y-you f-feel so-” he’s moans a bit louder this time.

I feel my face heat up at the praise and hide my face in his neck again, slowly brushing my lips over his collarbones and neck.

He goes in deeper and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

“E-Enland, we _really_ d-don’t have to-”

“Too bad we are-keep going.” I say quickly, proud that I could manage the sentence without stuttering.

America groans but still does as I say, slowly pushing in further.

A few-agonizing-minutes later America can finally start moving faster, a long stream of moans escaping his lips.

I can’t hold back my own-actually-especially not when America reaches down and grasps my member and start pumping in time with his thrusts.

I feel an almost physical almost-pain-but-more-pleasurable feeling starting to pool in the pit of my stomach-I’m getting close.

“A-Alfred, I’m ab-ab-” I can’t finish the sentence because America just moves both his hips and his hand faster.

I start to leave sloppy kisses all over his neck and collarbones-leaving a few marks here and there.

I tug on his hair, loud, filthy moans escaping my lips-getting about ¾ as many from America-as the feeling strengthens in my stomach.

It gets almost too much to bare and then when I had just thought if it went any further then it’d just hurt was when I reached my climax.

Giving one final, really loud, moan as suddenly there was white, hot liquid all over mine and America’s stomachs.

That seems to trigger America because only seconds later he’s doing the same thing as I did.

He falls against me, deep, labored breaths escaping his lips.

“Ow! Damn it America! I-I can’t b-breathe!” I gasp under the pressure.

America groans noncommittally.

I try to push him off but he is heavier than I am (not by so much but still) and I’m far too exhausted to be able to put as much force into it as I would like to.

“Bloody hell, America,” I exhale, giving up on moving him.

America groans, getting up and rolling off of me.

I take a deep breath, _air!_

America loosely drapes his arm over my waist, groaning slightly.

I look down at him, both of our breaths still heavy and fast paced.

Alfred looks up, smiling tiredly, before leaning forward and pressing a light kiss on my lips.

He then falls back down and falls asleep moments later.

I chuckle tiredly, running my hand through his hair.

Alfred stirs slightly but otherwise doesn’t respond to the touch.

I lay there for a few moments before exhaustion takes over me and I’m soon fast asleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred’s POV:

“Arthur,” I mutter, not opening my eyes-just expecting Arthur to be there.

“Arthur?” I ask, sitting up and opening my eyes.

I look around-no Arthur.

After cleaning up the mess that was still on my stomach from last night-bleh-and pulling on a shirt I get up to search for the missing England.

“Arthur!” I call-ignoring the maid’s outfit and Arthur’s clothes strewn all over the floor-making my way out of the room.

“Arthur Kirkland!” I yell-I swear to god if he left-

“Aah! What?! What?! What?!” Arthur stumbles into the hall just as I make my way down the stairs. He’s wearing a pair of my sweatpants and my shirt, one with the American flag plastered all over the front-both of which were slightly too big for him.

“What? What happened?” He asked, looking shocked and his breathing was slightly labored.

I sigh, he didn’t leave.

“N-nothing, I just… thought you left.” I mutter, looking away.

England steps closer, wrapping his arms cautiously around me.

“Why would I do that?” He asks, smirking slightly.

I shrug, feeling my face heat up.

England laughs, leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to my lips.

I smile, watching as he steps back, dropping his arms and gives me a final glance before walking back into the living room.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I walk to where England had disappeared.

I find England sat criss-cross-applesauce on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands as he watches the TV screen. He doesn’t notice me standing by the entrance, smiling at him as he gives his undivided attention to the show.

He takes small sips of his tea every now and then and when he isn’t he’s lightly biting his lip, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he sits there-entranced.

I laugh-he looks so adorable-and that causes England to snap up at attention.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, glancing between me and the screen.

I walk to sit beside him, draping my arm over his shoulders.

“You’re adorable, you know that?”

England’s face goes red and he starts muttering some kind of retort as he goes back to watching the TV screen.

I press a small kiss on his temple, smiling when England flushes a deeper red.

 


End file.
